A Return to Form
by Panther Nesmith
Summary: The title is referring to the fact that this has all the drama of an episode of the Rugrats. John and Lance slash. No sex.


Hey All!  
  
Another slash from yours truely. It's not sex, but it's insane, which is what you should have come to expect from me.  
  
***  
  
They'd been at the institute for a week. Lance's car had been parked on the curb the whole time. It was to much temptaion for Tabitha. She abducted Lance's jeep during one of the longer, 'Where's Mesmero Going?' meetings. John was the first person to notice that Lance's jeep was missing.  
  
"Lance, the loose blonde stole your jeep." He said, while they were watching a movie of some sort. Rogue looked up from _A Kiss of Twilight_.   
  
"Nope, the loose blond's still here. 'Less ya mean Tabby."  
  
"What's your problem?" John said, not taking particular offense to her remark.  
  
"That wanna be french loosa Gambit. Ah swear ta God if Ah see 'im again Ah'm kickin' him in the balls." Rogue said, before returning to her book. John looked at Lance.  
  
"Yeah, she'll do it. I gotta get my car back from that nympho-kleptomaniac!"  
  
Rogue gave Lance the briefest of death glares before Remy strolled in the door. Rogue muttered something that might have been 'right on damned cue.' Remy gave her a ravishing smile. She got out of her chair and stalked out of the door, but not before smacking Remy's leg, the only thing in easy reach, with her hardback Laurel K. Hamilton book.  
  
Remy followed her out, obviously on a mission to annoy. Lance shook his head. "Idiot." He then went back to brooding about Tabitha's grand theft auto.  
  
"An SUV, a mototrcycle, a convertible, and a damned tank, and she _has_ to steal my jeep! I can't believe her!"  
  
John was half laughing at the chaos, and half comforting his poor semi-boyfriend. This was an interesting combination, and anyone else who might have happened to be in the room, which, alas, was no one, would have wondered how much comfort Lance was getting from John's slightly giggly condolences.  
  
Then an idea belted Lance across the head with a two by four. "Hey John, you know how to hot wire a preppy convertible? I'm trackin' her down."  
  
"The zebra-in-training wearin' the goin'-to-Hell clothes?" John asked after quickly checking the door to see if Rogue was in it. A week of her glaring at any poor soul who happened to get within five feet of her general vicinity had given him enough clues to stay away from her.  
  
"No, that stealing, bomb making-" Lance started, only to be interrupted by John again, this time with a mischeivious look on his face. He was having fun.  
  
"Remy? He's not a she. Had plenty of shes, but never actually been one himself."  
  
"TABITHA!" John couldn't help himself, he keeled over the arm of the couch laughing his ass off. Eventually Lance laughed a little, slightly less tense about his situation. He had a solution after all.  
  
After they had a good laugh, Lance asked again, "So, can you hotwire One eye's car?"  
  
John shook his head. "Remy can, and he owes me a favor. I haven't told anyone he hasn't scored since he became an Acolyte. So it's sort of like I can." John smirked that he alone, and now Lance, Peter, and the woman with the white hair who caller herself O. . .something or other had this knowledge.  
  
Lance was pretty sure he didin't want to ask. But curiosity killed the cat (An: but for a while I was suspect). So Lance asked John, on the way to track down their 'wanna be french loosah' "How d' you know?"  
  
"Simple math. He's passed out half drunk and exhausted half the time, he's locked in his room one fourth, and the rest of the time we're on missions. That and I called him on it when he was full drunk and he almost killed me."   
  
So with this new, and largly unwanted, information about Remy's sex life, Lance and John continued hunting down the sex starved Cajun. John didn't exactly see the need to track down the blonde, but whatever Lance's idea was it obviously entailed a lot of chaos, and chaos was a major hobby of his. Well, one of two. John had a sneaking suspicion that Lance was good at the other too.  
  
They found Remy in the kitchen, with his legs spread, a decidedly peeved look on his face, and a ziplock bag full of ice on his crotch. Lance and John winced. Lance whispered to John "I tolja so."  
  
"You two here t' enjoy de view or you wan' somet'in'?" Remy said testily. He was not used to striking out. Especially not so painfully.  
  
John pulled up a chair across from him, spreading is legs around the back, semi-mocking Remy.  
  
"The skunkheaded girl do this to ya?" John said, not rushing himself at all. Lance stood beind him figiting in aggitation. He had only known John for a little bit, but he already knew that there would way too much talking about Remy's genitals for his taste. Not that he was overall against Remy's genitals, but just that he didn't give a damn when Boom Boom was in his jeep doing God knows what. Probably illegal God-knows-what too. Or freaking in his backseat. but then again, he wasn't the one sitting back there. That was all on Todd and Fred, so to speak.  
  
John was laughing his ass off at the very perturbed Cajun. Remy scowled and tried to move is legs together, but winced in pain and deicded to just deal with it later. Lance and John winced too, hoping to never fully understand what kind of pain he was in. At least Lance was. John could fully comiserate.  
  
"Dose boots should be illegal."  
  
"Huh. Guess the beds here are as dry as the ones in Magneto's lair." John saide smuggly. Remy adjusted his ice bag, this time suppressing the grimace of pain to a mere uncomfortable expression.  
  
"Not 'less Specs gets somet'in' outta Jean 'Everlast Chastisy Belt' Grey ev'ry night." He said, giving John a look that dared him to say a word otherwise.  
  
"Yeah. right. Speakin' of Scott, let's steal his car." John said, after Lance discretly kicked the back of his chair. Lance wasn't usually one for paitence.  
  
Remy laughed sarcastically. not a full out laugh, uta sort 'ha' of derision. "Y' wan' me t' hot wire Scott's car? I can' even walk, much less go down de stairs. 'M lucky Rogue kicked me next t' a chair, and dat Storm woman took pity on m' poor tortured. . .soul."  
  
All three men winced. Not only had he been kicked in the nads, but he'd had to ask a muc older woman to get him ice for them. That hurt on too many different levels.  
  
But John was merciless. "Okay, well, thanks anyway. Hey, you think the mean ass southern chick's seen any action since about the time Asteroid M went belly up?"  
  
Remy got painfully to his feet, putting his ice on te table. Later Jean would need soemthing to cool of her Diet Coke and would see the ice and, since no was using it, in her glass it would go, leaving a sore, harrassed, and slightly grossed out Remy to scrounge up more ice when all the trays were still refreezing. Eventually he would blackmail Bobby with pictures he was sure Jean and Scott didn't know Bobby had.  
  
But that has no effect on this story. What does have an effect on the story is this: Remy got painfully to is feet, putting his ice down. "Prick." He then hobbled to the garage, cursing and muttering in creole the whole way.  
  
When the car was purring like a giant red and white striped tiger on wheels Remy cursed a little louder in John adn Lance's direction and went to discover he was out of ice.  
  
John tried to get to the driver's side door first, but Lance beat him to it. John shrugged and vaulted cleanly over the shotgun side, landing on the armrest of the passenger seat. He rubbed his bum and placed himself carefully in the other seat.  
  
And the chase was on. First Lance checked the mall. A usual Tabitha place. And there were plenty of jeeps, but none of them were his. Next he checked the shoes stores. Another likely place for Tabitha to be lurking. No dice, and no Tabitha either. As sort of a last ditch try he drove past the strip mall, a good place for shoplifting. But still no Tabitha.  
  
John saw that this chaos was mainly just Lance muttering about what he would do to Tabtita, and driving past Shoebilee more times than even a Broadway actor's manly dignity could stand (AN: I can say that because I'm going into theater).  
  
"I'm hungry. Let's stop at that restaurant and grab some food."  
  
Lance grudgingly pulled into the parking lot of a crappy place called 'Cap's'. It used to be owned by Caparelli Mendoza, but Cap's used fewer letters. Now it was owned by Jimmy Kinja, and he took it from charming bistro to disgusting burger shack in one fell swoop.  
  
Not that either man knew or cared. John was busy causing a culture clash, intsructing the waitress meticlously about what should and should not be on a burger. The waitress was busy thinking about what she was going to buy at the mall with her paycheck. Lance was busy brooding about his jeep.  
  
After the waitres left to gve the fry cook a short lesson in picky ass customer cooking, John looked at his slightly forlorn friend.  
  
"Cheer up. You've got a kick ass car, you saw Remy not onlly strike out, but also almost saw im get kicked in the nads. You've got the day to yourself, and you've got me." John's voice fell a little at the last part. whether it was on purpose, or an actual attack of low self esteem he would take tot he grave, since no one asked him.   
  
Lance looked up at this anyway, just like John knew he would. "Hey you're right. I've got too much good stuff goin' for me to chase that rat trap of a jeep all day. After lunch you want to put some milage on Scott's car?"  
  
"Love to." John said, sure that the day was taking an upward twist. He smiled at Lance, a smile that spoke of miscief and crazyness. Lance mused about how much he liked that smile.   
  
After their food, which John sent back twice, for whatever reasons, they drove around Bayville. they passed the amusment park where Scott and Jean were spending the day. Not that Lance or John knew or cared about it either. Scott and Lance were actually doing the same thing. Ignoring the fact that their advasaries had stolen their transport in order to enjoy sometime with people they had some sort of feelings for. From the sweet apple pie romance of Scott and Jean to the sort of undefined something John and Lance had. Not that they would ever see it this way.  
  
They drove past the library where Rogue and Dr. McCoy, who both needed time away from the mansion, were studying their respective subjects. Whether Porno for Pyros was worth renting, and aincient Egyptian manuscripts.  
  
They noticed the movie theater passing on the right at seventy miles per hour, where Todd just happened to be watching the same movie as Wanda. He would swear before his executioner (Wanda most likely) that it was a total accident. He really wanted to watch Hannibal, even though his girly screaming was what had alerted Wanda to his presence in the first place.  
  
Finally John and Lance ran out of things to drive past, and Lance was doing figure eights in Burger King's parking lot. John was getting dizzy. Lance was making sure he didn't. Finally John couldn't last any longer.  
  
"Stop the car, I'm goin' to puke." Lance got an idea. He stopped the car, letting John look at something that was holding still for once.  
  
"You want to get something to drink? I'm sure Mystique's whiskey is still were I buried it."  
  
"You do realize I'm going to toss cookies right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And that I'll probably do it in the backseat."  
  
"Uh huh"  
  
"Of the car we have to drive home in."  
  
Lance's face fell. "Right. Damn."  
  
John put his arm around Lance's shoulder. "It was a good idea though."  
  
Lance's mind was already fixing this problem. "What if we were making out in is car?"  
  
"How's he going to find out?" John asked, interrested. It was eleven clock at night, so there wasn't much in the way of nightlife in Bayville. It was time to go home and freak out the conservatives while the radicals ice their balls and listen to Korn and Garbage at earbleed levels.  
  
"You'll see." And with that, Lance started back toward the institute. "Let's shake up is word."  
  
John rolled is eyes. Sometimes Lance would go all day making retarded earthquake puns. It was enough to drive a sane man crazy. But then again, John had never exactly been sane. So he was safe.  
  
Lance puled Scott's car into the driveway, but left the engine running. He kissed John lightly. John was taken by surprise. But the feeling of Lance's lips always had a way of making his brain stop, just for a second. They started getting a feel for each other's style quickly.   
  
Lance then leaned on the steering wheel, sending a loud beep hurtling through the rec room window like it was shot from a catapult. John jumped a little, but continued kissing Lance. Lance took John's shirt off. It was half for show, half because he liked the feeling of John's chest. The red and orange dragon shirt was draped over the rearview mirror.  
  
A very pissed off Scott stormed out of the door. A very curious and only minorly sore Remy walked out of the door behind him. Remy had good money going that Lance wold kill Scott, and he had to make sure things went his way.  
  
Scott gaped at the two men macking in his driver's seat. They had moved beyond light kissing, and were _really_ kissing. It struck Scott speachless, for once. Think early season one Scott walking in on Jean stark naked and giggling whorishly. This is how dumbfounded Scott was.  
  
Lance looked up and saw the look on Scott's face. He tried to laugh, but John's tongue wouldn't allow it. Instead of laughing at the idiotic look on Scott's face, he made it worse. Lance's mouth was open, and Scott could see John's tongue was halfway down his throat. Their legs were spread over the passenger seat entwined so that you could barely tell who's legs belonged to who.  
  
Remy was watching and laughing his ass off at Scott's face while cheering John on. Until Rogue opened the study window and threw her math book at his head, missing by only a few feet. Remy got the message none-the-less, and moved even farther out of range. Tehn he continued laughing his ass off and cheering the boys on.  
  
The next day was a school day. Rogue was sprawled across the backseat of Scott's car. Kurt was playing with the radio in the shotgun seat. Scott was contemplating the driver's seat. He'd seen two gay guys making out in that seat. It was tainted in his eyes. Rogue rolled her eyes, having heard the whole story from Lance and John when they were telling Remy. He'd been trying to convince her that with a condom and a sheet with a hole in it, he could relieve her tension.  
  
"C'mon Scott, vhat's wrong?"  
  
"Um, Rogue, why don't you drive?"  
  
Rogue glared at Scott. She put her headphones on and cranked them up. "Ah'll run ovah that french hick."  
  
"Like you can talk." Scott muttered. Kurt glared at him.   
  
"My sister _and_ ze guy flirting vith her, disgusuting as he is, are not that bad. Are we going to school?"  
  
Scott slammed the car door and went to Jean's SUV. He got in the back, and waited for Kurt and Rogue to 'port in. Kitty covered her nose and rolled down the shotgun window. Both Jean and Kitty looked peeved at Kurt. Rogue punched Scott in the arm and turned Garbage up, if possible, even louder.  
  
Kurt looked around. From his sister glaring at Scott, to Scott looking humiliated at a mildly irked Jean in the rear view mirror. Kitty was looking at her roommate for an explanation. Kurt wisely didn't say a word until he was out of ear shot of the X-men and safely with Amanda at scool.  
  
***  
  
Okay, tell me whacha think.  
  
REVIEW!  
  
Peace and Love,  
  
Panther Nesmith 


End file.
